


Entangled

by Dagaan



Category: Magia Record: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Puella Magi Tart Magica: The Legend of “Jeanne d’Arc”
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Magireco AU, aka Corbeau warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagaan/pseuds/Dagaan
Summary: It’s been a long day, and her classes ran late; Liz really just wants to get home. Corbeau decides to intervene, just because.
Relationships: Liz Hawkwood/Corbeau (Tart Magica)
Kudos: 11





	Entangled

**Author's Note:**

> Magireco AU time!  
> Liz and co. are transfer students. She’s living with Darc and just being your (not so) average do-good magical girl.  
> Corbeau is a White Feather for the Wings of Magius, but she pretty much just does what she wants.
> 
> This... isn’t particularly romantic, except in the way that Corbeau is.

Black feathers, the lackeys on the lowest rung of the Wings of Magius, once again attempted to recruit Liz. Promises of freedom from a life of fighting. Once again, she turned them down; and once again, she fought them off. Daggers blurring with her enhanced speed, she incapacitated a couple and sent the remainder scurrying away. The street light down the alley way flickered, orange light casting long shadows about her. An advantageous spot to her shadow magic, she supposed, though Liz knew she should really not have tried to short cut home this way. She’d rather avoid needless fighting. Sighing, she returned the two knives she held to her belt, but a clap behind her stopped her from reverting to her street clothes.

“Bravo! Always a fine show you put on, my black beauty.” Corbeau hopped off of her perch on the railing of some building’s emergency exit, sweeping a low bow over one arm. “Might I dance with you tonight?” The corner of her mouth quirked in a playful smile as she flicked her cloak, feathers darting towards the black haired girl.

Knives appeared back in her hands and whipped back and forth, easily cutting the feathers from the air. Darting forward, aiming squarely to incapacitate the girl she faced (preferably as quickly as possible), Liz began her dance-like battle routine. A twist brought both daggers up high; one a feint, as she quickly dropped the arm to get past Corbeau’s guard. All her steps were balanced and movements carefully measured, in stark contrast to the seemingly careless, though no less brutal, way the opposing girl fought.

Corbeau, unarmed, either slapped away the most fatal of blows — hands guiding Liz’s daggers safely past her vitals more to annoy her than for any sense of self-preservation — or simply took the hit, smiling the whole while. She dove into a forward roll as Liz disappeared into shadow to teleport behind her, quickly righting herself and turning to face her in one fluid motion, spinning up on one knee. A burst of speed carried her forward, feinting a high punch before launching a kick into the dark magical girl’s ribs that sent her back a few paces. Liz manipulated the shadows to coil around Corbeau’s calf as she jumped back, softening the blow and pulling the other girl off balance. She sent two daggers through the air, sinking into her chest and stomach and rapidly adding more red to her previously white shirt.

“Ah, my black beauty, you never pull punches do you?” Corbeau teased, pulling the knives out slowly, corners of her mouth curling up a little farther and exposing her teeth. “I do enjoy our time together, you know.” She flicked the blades into the ground, knowing tossing them back would simply return them to their owner no matter how hard she threw.

Liz was glad she couldn’t see her eyes through her mask, but she could practically feel that pale gaze burning a hole in her. A bit of a sickening sense, knowing those eyes weren’t upset in the slightest though she’d just been impaled; or rather, knowing that look was expressly from the joy of being in a such a situation. 

“I could say the same, but it would be a lie.” She said, frowning and reaching for one of her two remaining daggers. “Truly, I hope for the day you’ll leave me alone.”

Corbeau laughed, shrugging. “I’m afraid that day will be the one I die. You’re much too fun!” 

“A pity.” Came the dark haired girl’s dry response, only making Corbeau bark another laugh.

Her laugh was cut short as Liz threw the dagger and darted forward, following its trajectory and attempting to take advantage of her seemingly relaxed state. They were very evenly matched normally, though Liz tended to be craftier in her strategies, much to the other’s amusement. Corbeau was not caught entirely unaware by the sudden strike, twisting her body so the blade flew wide, before turning back to bring a knee up into Liz’s chin. 

Her feet were rooted to the ground by Liz’s shadows, however, and she only ended up wobbling, surprise hidden by her mask; until the girl came crashing into her, sending her to the pavement. Her head hit the ground, the jolt knocking the mask form her face and stunning her briefly. Before she could totally recover, Liz pulled the daggers Corbeau had left beside her from the ground, quickly sitting up and flicking her wrists to point them at the street once more. Elongating into spears, the tips disappeared into the darkness only to thrust up from the shadows and gore the white haired girl’s arms.

Lying on her back, forearms pinned through by shadow spears, Corbeau squirmed under the weight of the girl on top of her, pale eyes meeting the other’s cold golden gaze. A low chuckle pushed its way out of her throat as she shifted again, flexing the fingers on her hands and shivering as the tendons slipped awkwardly past the smooth metal of the spears. Her perpetual grin still hung on her mouth, as her tongue flicked out.

“My, such passion in your eye—“ she started, before her sentence was abruptly cut off with a strangled noise.

Liz flicked her wrist once more, another dagger shifting into a spear and pushing up under Corbeau’s neck, piercing her throat with a gout of blood. 

“I don’t want to hear a word out of your mouth.” She spat, eyes narrowing.

Laboring for breath through her punctured windpipe, lungs filling with her own blood, the white haired girl shifted weakly as her body bled out. Glassy eyed, her gaze lingered along Liz’s crouching frame before refocusing on her face. Unable to speak, and attempting to had her coughing — an uncomfortable experience to say the least, as her throat ached against the spear protruding through it, only agitating it further — she communicated telepathically.

_“Ah... you truly know the way to my heart! Though I must say, you struck a little high. It’s a good start, at least.”_ Her tongue flicked out again, pale eyes hazy and unfocused.

Liz told herself it was from the blood loss, though she doubted that was it entirely. She really didn’t like dealing with this particular magical girl.

A matter of seconds later, and Corbeau seemed to relax against the pavement, eyelids half shut. Her breathing was very shallow, and the blood flowing from her multiple wounds had slowed considerably. Liz scowled, standing up off Corbeau and retracing the spear from her neck. She replaced the ones at her arms with temporary shadow bindings before returning them to the belt at her hip; not that Corbeau was likely to move for a little while, given her current state, but she wanted to get home unhindered. She wasn’t dead after all, and had been known to heal quickly. Liz wanted to be far away by the time she started putting herself back together.

As if that sparked a memory, Liz took quick note of Corbeau’s mostly clean soul gem. Glancing at her own, sighing, she pulled out a grief seed to clean the impurities; both spent from her own magic and those Corbeau pushed onto her.

What a nuisance.

She started the rest of the walk home, making sure to move back out on to the main streets when she could.

**Author's Note:**

> Be strong Liz.
> 
> You’ll like her some day.


End file.
